This Heart I Give To You
by Child of the Muse
Summary: Based on a song by Mary Lambert and written for The Quidditch League Fan-fiction Competition Warning: A bit non-cannon. Enjoy :)


**I am Chaser One for the Kenmare Kestrals and have entered this in this Quidditch League Fanfiction competition. Enjoy :) **

**"I give up, I give in To the whole of your skin I give up, I give in Am I doing this again?" - This Heart, Mary Lambert **

**_Optional Prompts: _1. Weakness, 2. Picture Frame, 3. Dialogue: _"But would you have it any other_ _way?"_**

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In the life of Harry Potter, one could never expect normalcy. And he didn't. _Really, _he didn't. But in all his life, he had never expected this.

The war had passed almost as soon as it had started. But in fact, the "war" wasn't _really_ a war at all. Oh it looked like it, of course. With all assorted manner of dark creatures present and wreaking havoc on the grounds of Hogwarts. But that was a charade. It was only a deceiving mask, winning in it's game for pretending to be something else. This mask of war was actually a task to kidnap Harry James Potter, the horcrux of Lord Voldemort.

Harry had watched as deadly lights danced around him, portraying a picture of lightning and insanity as his stillness caused his life to dance very dangerously on the edge of a knife. Dancing because he could get hit by any flying spell at any moment. Just as in a matter of seconds, Fred Weasley had dropped to the ground, dead. Quickly followed by George who fell over his brother, hit in the back by a green light from an unknown source. Harry had been frozen, until he was being dragged by some death eater who knocked Harry out and, as the story goes, got knocked out himself. How he had survived when all of his friends had died, he would never know. It caught Harry by surprise that he was thinking back to the past, something he rarely did, as it was just too painful. And besides, things were so different now.

He walked over to the shelf full of pictures. From there, he could see his parents twirling around in a circle as if they hadn't been killed by Voldemort October 31st. Captured in that moment in happy times forever. He could see Ron and Hermione as if they hadn't been tortured to insanity and fed to Nagini, laughing with Harry over some joke Ron had told. He could recognize the enormous form of Hagrid the giant and could clearly recall when they went into the forest looking for the lost unicorn, the trail of blood leading to the gorgeous yet dead creature. When they would have tea and rocks (they were definitely not rock _cakes_), when himself, Hermione, and Ron helped Hagrid to get rid of the dragon, Norbert, in first year. When Hermione broke the flower pot sitting on the seal of his house, during the day when they used the time turner. How everyone clapped when he got back from Azkaban that same year, when he he showed Harry the Dragons in the Tri-wizard tournament, how he had always been there for Harry and had even stopped him from getting points taken away on occasion just by being himself. These were the memories that Harry called to mind and they helped him to forget how his friend was shot down as he ran from the infirmary yelling "'Arry, I'll save yer!" Apparently, he didn't know it was already taken over by death eaters. He was loyal and true blue until the very end, until his very last breathe, which Harry was close enough to hear as his heart stopped. And it was his death along with Ron and Hermione's that plagued Harry the most.

But he had new friends now, even if they were very Slytherin like ones. They had a pecking order, a wry (if a bit dry) sense of humor, and they knew very little, if anything, of love. But that didn't mean Harry himself had stopped loving. He had just found a new place to direct his attentions. Draco Malfoy, for instance, was not a lost cause. He was learning how to feel and show love just as Harry did. You could even say he'd rubbed off on Draco a bit, as the boy became slightly more reckless and Harry became slightly more stayed.

His focus was than drawn to the pictures besides that. The party that was held in honor of the death eaters who had won and captured Harry Potter, the dignitary party that had been held for the leaders of the wizarding world, and the first time he had ever realized he'd been attracted to Voldemort.

Up until that point he had denied everything but he had decided that day that he would no longer be a prisoner in what have been his own home. Because this was his home now. So he thought he would make the most of it and he gave in.

It was a simple picture, a simple decision. And oh how Harry remembered the party that night, like the ones before it. The food was elegant, the tastes were fine, and _he_ was quiet. _He_ spoke when spoken too, which was rare as few dared to approach him and invoke his wrath. Harry had moved up the table past the death eaters who were quietly making conversation and stopped by the vacant chair beside Lord Voldemort, much to the quieting of the table. He gestured to the empty seat. "May I?"

Voldemort watched him curiously for a moment, and just barely inclined his head.

"Thanks." He still hadn't had Slytherin tact by that time. And he was still learning even now.

He had sat down and began to eat. As he began to eat, he watched. Voldemort ate little, if anything at all and what he did eat, he ate rather fast, even for someone who was eating gracefully with a knife and fork. To this Harry randomly blurted "Why do you eat like that?" To which the whole table, including himself, expected to be cursed at that moment but Voldemort merely responded "Why do you?" Harry realized he'd been shoveling food delicately into his mouth in the same way Voldemort was. So he explained.

"Well, my cousin used to eat all the food on the table and I was barely left with scraps if I ate too slow so I just learned to eat as quickly as I could." And that was the start of the relationship between himself and Voldemort. They would eat side by side every night, sharing experiences, discussing magical theory (which took much effort of research, study, and thinking on Harry's part), and they would than retire to play each other at chess, which he was only starting to get better at after five years.

Than one day, Harry just kind of realized that somewhere along the way, he'd fallen in love with the man in front of him. And that brought him to the picture and the picture frame in front of him. The diamond and pure silver picture frame had been an extravagant gift from Voldemort to him on their wedding day. He had also given him a ruby and gold one, which he had used to house the picture of his friends from Gryffindor, who had all gathered for a huge photo.

Life really had gone on and turned into the most surprisingly pleasant of circumstances. But sometimes, he would miss Ron's crazy quips or Hermione's bossy attitude and weep for the holes in his heart. Holes in his heart that Voldemort put there. Holes in his heart that Voldemort was _still_ trying to fill.

Somewhere along the road of life, Harry had realized that he had to give up the past. That he had to let out the hurt and move on. He told himself over and over again that he wasn't weak for this. That he could be strong. But the more he tried to be strong, the weaker he became. And he realized, the only way to make it out of this pain, was to lean on his lover and hope that he would catch him when he fell. Tears slipped down his face as his lover entered the room. He hadn't realized because his back was turned.

"Reminiscing again?"

He didn't respond. He couldn't talk over the lump in his throat and didn't want his husband to see the tears in his eyes, even if they _were_ because of him. He loved Voldemort, and was loved in return. This was due to an incident where someone had tried to kill the dark lord and everyone fled but Harry, who had not only struck down the attacker but tortured and decimated him for days afterward before finally killing him. That earned him love, because it proved to the dark lord that he could trust Harry when he could trust no one else. After he had healed, he had made a supper for them both and asked to officially court him which six months later, ended up in him asking Harry's hand for marriage on a bent knee. It was an honor to him to be loved by such a powerful influential man. And a greater honor to have such a proud stoic in charge male bend romantically on a knee before _him_, a nobody, and ask for his hand. _Even still_, it was enough to bring tears to Harry's eyes. And in all of this he had gone through, he was now somehow lucky enough to be in love with a man who would take care of him. This was not something he had expected. Now a lump was in his throat for a totally different reason and fresh tears that spilled from his eyes were not ones of pain, but of joy.

"I'm fine." His voice was hoarse and scratchy. Voldemort made no comment but came to stand beside him and eye the pictures with him, deftly slipping his hand into Harry's, who squeezed his silently in return, desperately seeking relief from the silent pain.

"If I could give you some advice, you must learn to let go of the past. Only than can you look towards the future."

He nodded in understanding and they made their way to the bed. His lovers skin was soft. More meatier than in the graveyard in his fourth year, but still nicely toned. Whereas most thought this flesh was scaly, they had never _touched_ him. Harry made a point to every day. He was the only one Voldemort allowed to. And he adored it. The man's ethereal skin was like living silk flowing smoothly over strong taught flesh, completely unblemished by tan lines, scars, or stray marks. Who would have expected that something so unnatural could look so perfect?

This place, this room, this bed, this _person, this_ was where he always gave up and gave in. He no longer asked himself why was doing this again. Because now, he knew.

A few hours passed and they lay in bed, not exactly cuddling, but none the less, perfectly comfortable to just be when Harry stated, "I can't believe things turned out this way."

"Would you have it any other way?"

To this Harry smiled, shook his head, and scooted slightly closer, and turned his face into his husbands skin, giving into the whole of his husbands rain scented flesh.

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**I loved writing that :) Review if you want me to add something saucier in there that will give it an M rating ;)**


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